


The Night Watch

by zendog



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zendog/pseuds/zendog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very short little tag to episode 5:2 - Merlin's thoughts as he watches over Arthur at night time; during their forced march through the snow to meet Morgana. I do not own Merlin or any of its characters, this is merely a work of fanfiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Watch

The Night Watch

The cold crept into everyone that night. It ate into their bones and turned their bodies first to ice and then to unfeeling blocks.

The ones by the fire, their capturers, were cold but it was nothing compared to the abducted men. They lay there, bound and uncomfortable, trying to sleep. If they slept perhaps they could forget the cold. Forget that they might not live through the coming night and might never feel warmth nor comfort again. They all had but one over-riding thought, the cold and how to endure it. Everything else had become of secondary importance to them. All thoughts of home; loved ones and duty had disappeared, swallowed up by the freezing winds and the bitter snow. They just wanted to survive the night. If, by some miracle they did, then perhaps these other thoughts could once again take their place in their minds. But tonight, for all the captured men, everything they were or ever would be, was put towards ensuring they lived until the dawn.

But that is not quite true; for one of the bound men paid no heed to the icy snow and the banshee wind. One of them never gave the numbing, biting rawness of the night a single thought. He sat, long legs pulled up to his chest, held in place by his hands; hands which were slowly turning blue. He was not moving and not wavering. No, he was staring. 

Unblinking he watched; never moving his eyes from the young druid boy by the slavers fire. He was glaring at him with determination and frustration; a potent mixture of emotions that was undercut with a sense of bewilderment as well. 

This was the boy he and Arthur had saved, the boy who owed them his life. But it was also the boy who had threatened him, who promised never to forget nor forgive what Merlin had done. And now he was the grown man whom prophecy said would kill Arthur. It was so much past and future for one fragile life to hold. So much damage already wrought but (if his vision were to be believed) there was yet more to come. He was a mirror to Merlin’s own existence – both caught up in a twisted fate that had neither empathy nor love. 

And so Merlin watched; continuing his long responsibility of shielding his King from harm.

Merlin’s body was beginning to react to the plummeting temperature, shivering almost uncontrollably, but his mind refused to accept the cold. Still he did not take his eyes off the man who he had foreseen would kill his King. He could not trust him for a second, could not allow the future to come true. It was his destiny to save Arthur, to keep him alive long enough to ensure the flourishing of Albion. 

But it was more than destiny, duty or fate. It was his true belief and the reason for all he’d done and all he’d lost over the past eight years. If Arthur died then it would all have been a waste and he could not, would not, allow that to happen. But above all this, it was because Arthur was his friend and Merlin would unquestioningly give his own life to preserve the King’s.

All around him men had managed to sleep. Arthur, his back turned to Merlin, was laid out on the snowy ground, unmoving. But Merlin did not look, did not need to see his friend lying still as death; for he knew that Arthur would survive the cold night. It might carry away others, but not his King. For this was not his destiny. Merlin was staring at Arthur’s destiny – the youth who was sitting there by the fire. Merlin was desperately thinking and planning. There had to be a way, he couldn’t have lost so much only to be cheated of the promised future by this bewildering boy.

Even when the leader of the slavers taunted him, threw food at him, spoke of the future awaiting them at Morgana’s strong hold, Merlin continued staring. The leader found the staring unnerving, unnatural but did not push the watcher too far. Perhaps it was too cold to bother moving or maybe he feared someone who had such tenacity and was unwilling to lose face in front of his men. Whatever the reason he soon lost interest in the strange watcher.

The sun had set long ago and the moon shone on to the warlock, but still he would not stir. He would not sleep. He would not falter. He just stared.

And the druid boy merely stared back.

Mordred’s face was a blank. Merlin could not read his thoughts or his intentions; could not break through the passive features into the mass of emotions below. 

So still he watched.

The dawn broke and the boy approached. Perhaps to break his stare, perhaps to break his spirit, Merlin did not know. Food was offered and some words. Words Merlin did not know whether to believe. It was not clear, he could not tell; he could only fear and this fear was seen by the boy.

“You fear me Emrys, don’t you? I know the hatred and suspicion with which men treat those with magic. You and I are not so different. I too have learnt to hide my gifts. I promise, your secret is safe with me.”

As the boy walked away and others began to stir Merlin questioned him, half listening to the answer, half listening for a giveaway in his voice. Something that would tell him what the druid boy’s intentions were. Could Merlin believe him? Could he give in to the hope that all would be well? 

Then he saw again in his mind the image of the bloody red battlefield, Arthur’s uncomprehending face and Mordred striking the fatal blow. Sitting up, in the cold morning air, listening to all around him waking with relief at having survived the night, Merlin had his answer. He knew. He could not believe the boy. 

And with the new day Merlin realised he had found his way forward.

No matter what it cost him, no matter what had to be lost in order to protect Arthur, it had to be sacrificed. Merlin had to submit to fate and learn his duty.

Merlin knew this was the first night of many in which he would sit and watch. He would always watch. He could never afford to stop watching. Arthur and Albion would survive no matter the cost; and Merlin was willing to pay.

XXX


End file.
